


In Between Ice Mirrors

by JDLynn



Series: A Frozen Life [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Kings Cross, Master of Death Harry Potter, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, The Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 08:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18634585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JDLynn/pseuds/JDLynn
Summary: The second time Harry Potter died he discovered he couldn’t stay dead. He still wasn’t sure how that led to him being a ninja of all things.





	In Between Ice Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Naruto. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This is fan fiction.

The second time Harry Potter died he really didn’t want to go back. However, he was still the Master of Death when he died, and apparently that meant that he couldn’t die – 

Actually, he  _ could _ die; he just couldn’t  _ stay _ dead. 

It was some kind of Owner-of-All-the-Deathly-Hallows-aka-Master-of-Death logic. (The kind of logic that wasn’t really logic at all except for the intrinsic “it’s magic” explanation that seemed to be its own acceptable justification.) There was also probably a good deal of “it’s Harry Potter of course it’s possible” logic hidden in there as well. (Which was the logic that simultaneously defying all the odds, doing the impossible, and everything still being perfectly normal, was acceptable as long as Harry Potter was somehow involved.) 

Overall, it was just something that probably never would have happened at all, except that it happened to Harry Potter. And when it came to him, impossible situations that don’t seem to follow normal logic at all, they just kind of happen. 

\---

Staring up at the overcast sky, Harry Potter released his last breath, let his eyes slip closed and died with the smell of fire in his nose and the smallest of smiles on his lips. 

A blink later, Harry opened his eyes in the white King’s Cross - the same version Harry had seen when he last died in the Final Battle at Hogwarts. Somehow, returning here felt expected. What wasn’t expected was the feeling of cloth. Last time he’d arrived at this Train Station Between Life and Death, Harry had arrived naked. This time he wasn’t, at least not completely. 

The weight of a familiar cloak was draped across his back. Twisting to better examine it, Harry ‘s eyes caught the shine of a cracked black stone set in a ring on his finger. Then the texture of the knotted wood of  a wand, his hand half curled around it, registered. 

‘ _ Huh _ ,’ Harry thought bewilderedly. It would seem the Deathly Hallows had followed their Master into death. 

“Well…” Harry mused aloud, “I wasn’t expecting to see most of you again.” 

Though Harry had retained possession of his family’s Invisibility Cloak, he had left the Resurrection Stone lost in the Forbidden Forest and returned the Elder Wand to Dumbledore’s tomb. Beyond a rare passing thought, Harry had given little consideration to the fate of the Deathly Hallows after the end of the Second Blood War and Voldemort’s death. 

He certainly hadn’t consider himself  _ the Master of Death _ , he was  _ just Harry _ . 

With a heavy sigh, Harry tore his eyes away from his ringed hand the wand it held, “Well, first things first, clothes.” It didn’t take long for Harry to imagine up something to wear. Clothed, and feeling far more comfortable for it, Harry tucked the Elder Wand into his holster.

There would be no going back, not this time. No prophesy to fulfil. No final battle he was obligated to fight. No loved ones in need of saving. Harry was at peace with this death in a way he hadn’t been with his last. He was ready to go on, he was ready to rest. 

With every passing moment, Harry could feel the thin thread of connection tying him to his body unravelling a little more. Soon going back wouldn’t even be a possibility. It was just a matter of waiting. 

Sitting on the bench, Harry waited for his train.

He waited for a long time.

Even as that last thread of connection to his body broke and any possibility of “back” was barred, no train appeared.

Still, he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Harry was stubborn, it was a trait that had always defined him, for good or ill. And when he was so inclined to put the effort in, he could be downright impossible. Harry would be going on. 

He waited stubbornly set in his resolve. 

And waited.

And waited.

Time passed - hours or days or months or more, it was impossible to measure in the unchanging train station. 

And still, Harry waited, stubbornly. 

And waited.

And waited.

Even as boredom weighted heavily upon him, Harry was determined, he would not be moved. He would not. 

So, he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

What patience Harry had learned over the course of his life was tested to the limits, and beyond. It was not enough. This place had an eternity to wait, and eventually, boredom overcame stubborn; though, not entirely. 

Harry was still waiting, but he conceded to his boredom and curiosity enough to begin poking his nose around the empty not real King’s Cross. It wasn’t particularly interesting. Empty trash cans. Train tracks. A lot of bricks …which he counted, several times. 

Then Harry found a door. And he was never bored after that. 

Though he was still waiting.

\---

“Good luck,” Harry wished Franklin (whose In-Between he was currently inhabiting) in parting. Absently humming to himself, Harry made his way towards a doorway. 

Harry had been wandering in the realm of the In-Between for longer than he would care to remember. During the course of his time wandering Harry had come to learn many things.

One of the most relevant things Harry had learned was that the In-Between was a transition point between life and death. It took many forms, each unique to the person’s whose In-Between it was (usually taking the facsimile of a location associated with a life-changing moment). There were however a few things that remained constant in everyone’s In-Between.

One, the In-Between was for people stuck between life and death. Here was where they made their choice to go onwards (to death) or to go back (to life). And as...

Two, the In-Between was a place outside of time, or at least where time had no meaning. It did not matter when the person came from, or how long they stayed.  _ Death was eternally patient _ . 

Three, each In-Between had a way on and a way back; whether it was visually represented (like Harry’s trains) or only known to the person. However, none of these paths were available to Harry; they were not  _ his  _ onwards and thus he could not use them. 

Finally, there were secret doorways between In-Betweens, and Harry could travel through them, but no one else could. The forms of the doorways, like the forms of the In-Between, changed depending on the person. 

Harry had been using these doorways to search for his own way onwards. He hadn’t found one, yet. However, he was still hopeful. 

Opening the secret doorway in Franklin’s In-Between, Harry stepped through.

“Wha…” Harry was no longer discombobulated by the abrupt change in venues that happened travelling between In-Betweens. However, he was still sometimes caught off-guard by the forms different In-Betweens took.

This particular In-Between was a dome shaped room in which the walls and ceiling were made up completely of large, flat, reflective planes. 

As he stepped further into this new In-Between, out of the corner of his eye Harry caught sight of the “door” he had just come through. He was surprised to realize it was a plane identical to the rest. Curiously, he reached out in an effort to discern what it was made of. The surface was cold and smooth beneath his palm. “Ice,” he concluded, baffled at this strange interpretation of a doorway.

“It’s my _ Makyō Hyōshō _ ,” a calm voice explained from behind him. 

Turning to face the inhabitant of this In-Between, Harry smiled at the androgynous, young adolescent; Harry thought it was a boy of about fourteen, but it was hard to tell for sure. Long black hair was gathered back in a white bun holder, but two locks were loosely framing their face; where a pair of large, dark brown eyes gazed out passively from beyond smooth, effeminate features. They were built similarity to how Harry had been when he was that age, slender and not very tall. The draping of their white, split-skirt kimono, further obscured their gender and form. 

“Er… Hello there, I’m Harry,” Harry introduced inelegantly. 

Lips quirking up in a small, amused smile, they replied in kind. “Hello, it is nice to meet you. My name is Haku.”

“Lovely to meet you too,” Harry smiled back. “You were saying something…”

“The ice mirrors,” Haku clarified. “They are called  _ Makyō Hyōshō _ .”

“So they actually are made of ice?” Curious, Harry leaned closer to examine them. The cold air drifting from them lightly fogging his glasses. 

“Yes. It is a  _ Hyōton Kekkei Genkai  _ technique.” 

“ _ Kekkei Genkai _ …” Harry hummed thoughtfully, stepping away from the ice mirrors. Brow furrowing, he turned to regard Haku again. The term was pulling at his mind, Harry was  _ sure _ he’d heard it before. Language had no meaning, no barriers, in this In-Between space. However some words just didn’t translate contextually. It took Harry a minute to place why this one sounded familiar. 

A  _ Kekkei Genkai  _ was a  _ shinobi _ technique or ability limited to those who inherited it by blood. Similar to how  _ Metamorphmagus  _ was passed down from the Blacks.

With a small noise of realization, Harry reappraised Haku. ‘ _ Fast,’  _ he concluded, ‘ _ probably flexible too. But probably not very much blunt force strength. Speed probably makes up for it, which means, probability  _ really  _ fast.’ _

“You are a  _ shinobi _ .” It wasn’t a question; now that he was looking for it Harry could see the signs and feel the strange not-quite-magic energy that the previous  _ shinobi _ he’d met had called  _ chakra _ .

“I was.” Haku agreed.

“Are,” corrected Harry absentmindedly, “You are not dead.”

“Not…” Haku’s eyes widen in surprise at the possibility of being anything  _ but _ dead.

“Not yet.” Harry amended.

“But- But-” Haku sputtered in distress, abruptly sinking into a sitting position on the floor. “How- I- Zabuza-sama- And- In the heart- And- Zabuza-sama- Isn’t possible- Failed- I-  _ Zabuza-sama- _ ”

“Woah, hey,” Harry moved forwards carefully to kneel beside of the distraught youth. “Take a deep breath. In and out.” It took a little while, but Harry managed to calm Haku down from their incoherent state. 

“I am  _ not _ dead?” Haku questioned disbelievingly. 

“Not yet.” Harry reiterated.

“Yet?” 

“This place, where we are, it is a place between life and death. People who wind up here are usually those on the brink of death, but not quite dead. This is a place of choosing; whether to move on or to go back.”

“Go back?”

“Return to your body, go back to living.” Harry clarified, before pausing. After a careful moment of consideration, he reluctantly continuing. “Before you choose… Keep in mind that to end up here you have to be on the brink of death. I don’t know what caused you to wind up that way, but if it’s something… If your body… Coming that close to death doesn’t always leave the body in the best of conditions. Depending on the circumstances you could return only to find out you’re paralyzed or you’ve lost a limb, or you could be perfectly fine. It depends.”

“I was stabbed in the heart with a assassination technique.” Haku answered firmly, positive about the details of their near-death. 

“That would explain why you were so sure you were dead.” Harry said a little nonplussed. That certainly explained Haku’s surprise. If  _ he _ had been stabbed in the heart he’d be more than a little surprised about not being dead too.

They lapsed into silence. Harry shifted from his kneeling position to sitting, waiting patiently while Haku contemplated everything they’d been told. 

“What about Zabuza-sama?” Haku eventually asked, quietly interrupting the silence.

“Zabuza-sama?” Haku’s brow was furled in deep thought, staring intently at their hands while weaving long, elegant fingers together and apart. 

“Yes. I am Zabuza-sama’s tool. The assassination technique was meant for him, but I took it instead.” Smiling softly with pride colouring their voice. Harry shifted uneasily, that kind of satisfaction was a little unnerving but he also something he understood. Harry’s first death had been the result of sacrificing himself to protect his own loved ones; Haku’s sacrifice wasn’t so different. 

“Hm… What about Zabuza-sama?” Harry prompted, not entirely sure what the boy was asking.

“Zabuza-sama was my precious person. He is my purpose, and I am his weapon.” Haku declared earnestly. “Would Zabuza-sama want me back? I served my purpose. I  _ failed _ him. And, if my body  _ is _ broken I might not be able to continue serving him. I do not wish to become a  _ burden _ for Zabuza-sama.”

“Well…” Harry hedged, not entirely sure how to proceed in face of Haku’s absolute devotion to this Zabuza person. “I supposed you can only do what you think is best, and hope it is the right choice.”

Silence resumed as Haku considered his options. Finally, he took a deep breath and declared resolutely: “I will move on.”

“May I ask why?”

“When I intercepted the assassination technique, I took it to the heart. Of this I am sure. Such wounds do not heal easily, and there are often lasting health consequences even when they do. If I returned I would only be a burden to Zabuza-sama, and I have already failed him once. To return and be unable to serve my purpose, to burden him and fail him again, would be worse than whatever death may bring.”

“You are sure?” Harry inquired solemnly. Haku nodded affirmably and without hesitation. “Well then,” Harry began, rising to his feet, “Goodbye and good luck.” 

Having come to a decision, Haku would be moving on shortly. Which meant Harry had to quickly leave this In-Between immediately. He wasn’t sure what would happen to him if he were in someone else’s In-Between when it faded. However, every instinct told him it wasn’t something he would like. 

Standing, Harry turned to find the secret doorway that would take him elsewhere, only to realize he had no idea how to get out. He was surrounded on all sided by ice mirrors, no exit in sight. Quickly his eyes scoured the area looking for an exit. There weren’t any. 

Adrenaline raced as panic began to set in. Every one of Harry’s instincts screamed that he should  _ not be here _ when Haku left! He never stayed in the same space as a departing soul. Never! Some instinct or sixth sense told him that staying was a really  _ bad  _ idea, so he always left. Always!  

Behind him Harry could feel Haku leaving now; peacefully fading away into the afterlife. 

Frantically, Harry eyes trailed over the area. Feverently he spun looking for an exit. Nothing. There was only a perfect dome of ice mirrors.

There had to be a way out. There was a way  _ in _ , so there must be a way out. 

The ice mirrors, Harry remembered. He’d entered through one of the ice mirrors. But which one?

Heart racing, Harry spun in a circle. Which mirror had it been? They all looked the same. 

_ ‘Bloody hell! Damn, damn, damn! Merlin damn it! Which one is it!’ _

Haku was almost completely gone now. The In-Between blurring and misting. Harry needed to leave  _ now _ .

Frantically, Harry raced for the closest ice mirror. He was almost out of time. He would just have use his best guess, and keeping trying until he found the right one.

Hand outstretched, fingers chilled from the proximity of the cold surface, Harry’s whole world dissolved as Haku moved on.

\---

_ Pressure, pushing down on him. Restraining him. _

_ Can’t breathe. Can’t see.  _

_ Pain. Horrible, aching pain. _

_ Suffocating darkness.  _

_ Blood racing through his veins, pounding in his ears.  _

_ The beat of his heart, drumming. _

_ Pain, pain, pain. _

_ A fierce burning in his chest. In his heart, in his lungs.  _

_ Need air.  _

_ Dirt crushing him under its weight, crumbling away beneath frantically digging hands. _

_ Can’t breathe.  _

_ Limbs growing weaker. _

_ The slap of cold on his skin. A deep breath.  _

_ The scent of salt in the air. The taste of dirt in his mouth. The sting of light in his eyes. _

_ Coughing. Choking. _ Breathing _.  _

_ Broken nails tearing away at the ground. Muscles aching.  _

_ Pain. Burning in his chest. Hurts. _

_ Silence. _

_ Darkness.  _

_ Sweet relief. _

\---

Awareness steeped in slowly as the haze of forced unconsciousness slowly loosened it hold on his mind.

His body was sore, a deep aching pain, but a healing one. 

It was a familiar kind pain to Harry, one he had often experienced it following many a misadventure. It was a pain often accompanied by waking in a Healer’s care. However, there were none of the lingering scents he associated with hospitals, no lingering trace of healing magic permeating the air.

The air smelled of the sea, brine and fish. The taste of dirt and blood saturated his parched mouth. What skin the wind touched was chilled and dew-damp. This time Harry had woken half buried in a grave he vaguely remember digging his way out of. 

With great effort, Harry managed to crawl the rest of the way out of the earth’s clutches. Once completely out, he slumped onto his back exhaustedly, his body too tired to hold him up any longer. 

His head hurt. His body hurt. He was  _ so _ tired. And he could feel the familiar sensation of magic coursing through his body, working to make him better. Magic and something else, something unfamiliarly familiar. It was obvious to Harry that he wasn’t quite done healing. 

Concentrating through the headache (despite the fact that that only made it worse) Harry tried to figure out how he’d wound up in this state to begin with. Images of ice mirrors,  _ malevolent power _ , _ a shattered mask,  _ no exits,  _ Zabuza-sama _ ,  _ a hand in encased in lightning _ , and  **Haku** swamped his mind. 

_ ‘What?’  _ Some of those memories were all wrong. Harry had never met Zabuza. The man shouldn’t be in his memories, Harry shouldn’t even be able to recognise him. And yet…

Harry lifted a trembling hand and let in fall on his chest over his heart. 

Despite knowing he’d never met Zabuza, despite knowing it’d been  _ Haku _ and  _ not him _ that had been stabbed in the chest with the lighting technique…

Fingers brushed the edge of the hole, pierced through sodden and stained fabric, and found the puckered skin of a newly forming scar. An unusually jagged, star shaped scar, the size of an adult hand, almost directly over his heart.

Somehow, despite everything, Harry still remembered the events; remembered them as he had been there. Only, he knew he hadn’t.

_ ‘What in the world is going on?’ _

Breathing deeply, ignoring the lingering ache in his throat and lungs, Harry closed his eyes and turned his attention inwards. With some difficulty, he fell into a meditative trance. Following the end of the Second Blood War, Harry had gone through great pains to properly learn  _ Occlumency _ . 

The first thing Harry noticed upon entering his mindscape was the absolute chaos. With instincts born of a habit repetitively practiced, Harry set to work.  _ Sort, order, organize… everything in its proper place.  _ It took time and more energy that Harry had thought he could muster, but it needed to be done.

By the time his mind had been returned to some semblance of order, Harry was feeling much more clear-headed and had a general theory about what had happened. Tiredly, blinking open his eyes he gazed up at the blue sky and tried to come to terms with this new revelation.

He was no longer dead. Nor was he in the In-Between. Which, by logical conclusions, lead to him being in a state he hadn’t expected to find himself in ever again…

He was alive. 

Worst, he was pretty sure he was in Haku’s body. 

**Author's Note:**

> Definitions:
> 
> Makyō Hyōshō : Crystal Ice Mirrors Technique  
> Hyōton Kekkei Genkai : Ice Release Bloodline Limit  
> Kekkei Genkai : Bloodline Limit  
> shinobi : ninja  
> -sama : honourific, formal, used in addressing persons higher in rank than oneself  
> Metamorphmagus : a witch or wizard who has the ability to change their appearance at will, without the need for a wand, spell, or potion. (Example: Tonks, Teddy Lupin).  
> Occlumency : the Art of Shielding the Mind, the act of magically closing one's mind against Legilimency
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N:
> 
> So... just in case you're confused....
> 
> Harry lives out his life (post-Deathly Hallows, AU to epilogue), then dies and winds up back at the Train Station where he discovers that he can't move on and won't/can't go back. He then bored, goes wandering around in the In-Between for a really, really long time.
> 
> Meanwhile, the Team 7 vs. Zabuza/Haku / Wave arc plays out. Only rather than straight up being killed, Haku's bloodline put them into a near-/false-death state while they were healing from a near fatal injury. The Zabuza and Gato are deaths, etc plays out the same. Up unitl Team 7 buried Haku beside Zabuza and leaves. 
> 
> Then Harry and Haku met in the In-Between place. Though a Harry Potter turn of luck/logic, when Haku moves on (to death) with Harry (still stuck in their In-Between) gets shoved back (to life) and thus into Haku's body.
> 
> Which leaves us with a Harry-in-Haku's body stuck living in the Naruto verse. Probably waking up there shortly after Team 7 skedaddled, around the time the Chunin Exam arc began.
> 
> What happens next? Who knows. I'll leave that to your imaginations for now.
> 
> I have some sequel ideas. But for now this is a one-shot. I don't know if I'll ever get around to writing them... only my fickle muses know. We'll see.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the story.


End file.
